I look down at the sleeping man on the welcome mat. What a turn out. A quiet night in. One quiet night in where my flat mate and I could just unwind and not worry about anything... was that too much to ask for? It had already been a high stress week and I really didn't want to add an unconscious stranger at the front door to the pile. I don't know why the neighbour's party guests couldn't stay in the neighbour's flat. Mind you, this man didn't fit the status quo of the neighbour's friends, for one, he wasn't filthy, he wasn't wearing a tracksuit nor did he smell of weed mixed with piss. He did however, smell quite heavily of whiskey. He had a handsome face, looked to be about in his late forties, well dressed, smart-casual in expensive clothes. I wondered who he was, because while people passed out in the stairwell and corridors is classified as a common sight in this tower block, this case was not as frequent. I hear my flat mate calling me. "Alex?"
"Yes Lynn?" I yell back, causing the man on the door mat to wince. "What the fuck?" He asked. I look down. "Uh, are you alright there sir?" I ask hesitantly. His eyes open and a weird hybrid of blue and brown look at me with an almost painful confusion. "Where am I?" He groans, getting up slowly. He dusts his jacket off. "How long have I been here?"
"Ummm... you're at my flat... in Basildon." I say, the man raises his eyebrows. "How the fuck did I end up here?" He asks, though it's more like he's asking himself that question, I give a reply anyway. "I can't answer that, and you've been on my doormat for about two hours now."
"Christ, I'm sorry, I haven't annoyed you or anything, have I?"
"More like scared the shit out of me! Are you okay sir?"
"I'm really sorry... I'm sorry to bother you but do you know a place I could stay, it's just, I'm really tired right now, and it smells of pee out here."
"I don't really know, there's nowhere close by, travel lodge near Crays Hill maybe?" I say, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. The man shrugs. He reaches into his pocket, and slowly reaches out with nothing in his hand. "I lost my wallet..." He mumbled softly. He looked down, I could have sworn he was about to cry, in fact, his eyes were watery, red and puffy. "Please help me..." He said to me, his voice wavered.
I just wanted a quiet night in.
YOU ARE READING
Couch Surfer
FanfictionDave Gahan is having a pretty bad time. Losing his wife, his home, his phone and his money, it's been a really rough night. And now he's ended up on the doormat of a random flat in a familiar town.
